Another life
by Fellowman
Summary: Over the course of the Red vs Blue series, many have met their demise. Some were heroes, others complete assholes. But in the end, they still died. But what if they were given a second chance in another world? What if... they were given another life?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! So this is my first ever story here in fanfiction!... Yeah, I'm not the best when it comes to greetings, but all I can say is that I hope you enjoy and send in reviews for me to improve my story!**

Church sat there patiently, in the mind of an uptight, cold, and possibly insane freelancer agent. I mean, who does this guy think he is, outright telling him he wasn't a motherfucking bad ass ghost!

There's-there's no other plausible explanation! He wasn't an A.I, and he sure wasn't this Alpha that the other A.I's were so fucking obsessed on!

He was Leonard L. Church the person! Not Alpha the mentally abused!

Epsilon affecting him was probably just some goddamn coincidence! And Delta was the most reasonable and pragmatic person he's had the pleasure to encounter over the course of this ridiculously painful life of his, so of course he would agree with the smart ass.

And he willingly accepted Omega so yeah…

"Fuck you Washington. You're a fucking idiot."

"You do realize that I'm right here, right?" said a voice, making Church to raise his head, meeting the frightening bastard.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Church demanded, to which Wash merely shook his head in disappointment.

"You're inside my brain, Alph-"

"I'm not the fucking Alpha! I'm a motherfucking ghost, goddamnit! You're almost as annoying as Caboose, now!" Church shouted, frustrated.

Brain Washington sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "Just-just appear when I tell you to, okay? We're in quite the dilemma right now," Wash said, as a two dimensional rectangle materialized in the middle, projecting what Wash's eyes were seeing.

Wash was kneeling, damaged from a bullet wound shot in his leg, whilst watching as the Meta menacingly sauntered over to him with a gun directed at his face.

"Wow, you're in deep shit, Wash. Do you mind if I, uh, I don't know, get the fuck outta here? Because I don't want to experience what it feels like being in a dead man's brain," Church said, backing away.

"No. We got to distract the Meta long enough to activate the E.M.P, for that I need you," Wash told Church. "It's Emp not E.M.P, smart ass," Church mumbled to himself. Wash sighed and said, "Just appear right in front of me when I say so, got it?"

"Yeah, whatever fuck face."

A mature and calm voice then boomed from the speaker over their heads, something that Wash was getting irritated of. "Agent Washington, I fear this is one recovery beacon you won't be responding to. Kill him Agent Maine," the Director ordered with a solemn voice.

"Where's is it?" asked an A.I from the Meta.

"Where's the Alpha!" demanded another.

"Where is it?" another inquired once more.

"The Alpha is not here. It has been moved far away. Attend to the matter at hand," ordered the director in a clearly miffed tone.

"Geez, Wash, you have some serious daddy issues," Church remarked.

"Agent Maine, what the Director's trying to say, is we can discuss the Alpha later. What's important, is that you prove that you can be trusted again. We need to trust you before letting you meet the Alpha. Wouldn't you agree?" said another voice, more soothing than the Director's intimidating voice.

Beneath Wash's helmet, a smile formed. "You know Meta, why wait? Why don't you meet him, right now?"

"Appear now, Church!" brain Wash commanded, startling Church.

"Geez, Wash, your memories contain a lot of messed up shit. I don't know if I should feel sympathetic or not," Church blurted as he viewed Wash's memory.

"Alp-Church get out of there now!" Wash mentally shouted frantically.

"Geez, alright, fuck face," Church replied before disappearing.

Not even a second after Wash finished his sentence, a cobalt hologram of Church manifested between him and the Alpha. This sparked a series of events that Church did not expect. All the within the Meta suddenly appeared around him, all quite shocked yet jubilant upon his grand reveal.

What Church didn't like about the freaks was that they kept referring to him as "the Alpha". Who knew that could be idiots too?

Church then turns away from the gathered to Wash. "You know I can see why you didn't want anyone else in your head. Got some pretty heavy stuff going on there. I think you need a professional," Church proposed.

Wash silently chuckled from that. "That's too bad. I just lost my job, and we have a great mental coverage," Wash said as he reminisced the younger days of project freelancer.

Church nodded. "How much time do you need?" Church asked. Wash stared at Church for moment before answering, "Whatever you can get me. When the E.M.P goes off-"

"When it goes off, I'll be fine," Church interjected. "It only affects computers, remember? And I, am a motherfucking ghost," Church declared before he entered the Meta's brain, encountering the other .

Vacant. That was the word Church used to describe the Meta's brain. It was honestly underwhelming. When Church entered the mind of the Meta he expected a mind somewhat similar to Caboose's, albeit replaced with a more hostile looking environment where a pugnacious mentally broken mute resides in.

So he sure wasn't prepared to be greeted by a vast, white empty space filled with absolutely nothing! Well, nothing until something began to form in front of him. Seven figures in fact, suddenly materialized right in front of him.

Delta, Gamma, and Omega were the only ones that Church recognized; the others just weren't familiar to him. There was a gold A.I along with a cyan with a purple colored one behind them, nervous. But then there was this orange fuck that instantly earned a ticket to his asshole list when he smiled smugly at him.

The orange one raised his chest and spoke, "Alpha, it's a pleasu-"

"Let me stop you there, buddy," Church interrupted. "My name is Church, and I'm not some A.I that you deluded fucks have a fetish on!" All the went silent, apart from Omega who snorted upon hearing Church finish.

"Got a problem with that, Omega?" asked Church, to which Omega nodded. "Oh, well then, please be kind enough to divulge what your fucking problem is!" Omega broke in a fit of laughter. "You haven't got the slightest clue, do you?" said the orange A.I, taking a step closer.

Church's eye twitched as he turned to the orange man who had his smug smile wiped away. _That's right, turn that smile upside down you bastard. You don't smile at a ghost._ "And what the fuck are you talking about," Church said, as his head quickly turned from Omega to the orange man. "You're not a human, Apha, "the orange fuck continued making Church's eye twitch.

"Yeah, I'm not a human, I'm a ghost now, bitch," Church retorted, to which Omega hollered even more. "Hey, orange dude-"

"It's Sigma."

"Yeah, whatever your fucking name is. Can I shoot Omega right now, because I'm really tempted to," Church asked as he pointed his sniper rifle at the laughing A.I.

Omega merely stared at the sniper rifle and back to Church and said, "Really, Alpha? You expect to kill me with that thing?"

"Stop calling me Alpha and I'll promise you a swift death… maybe," Church offered, gun still pointed at the intolerable A.I.

Omega groaned, slapping his hand to the side of his helmet. "Church, you're not a ghost you buffoon! You're an A.I! How else can you explain your willingness to accept me!"

"Hey, I spent the rest of my military career with those idiots. It's not my fault that I wanted a break from it," Church replied matter of factly.

"How about the multiple times you agreed with Delta's decisions, and not once have you refused following them!"

"Good point, good point," Church said nodding. "Though here's my counterpoint." Church held up a finger the entirety of the Meta's mind began to rumble. Omega's face went from… well blank to blank as you really can't see anything behind that visor. But it was clearly evident that once the place started quaking he was both confused and furious.

"What are you doing you fool!" Omega shouted, as the other began to panic.

"Uh, I think it's fucking apparent that I'm attempting to stop you assholes!" Church declared. Omega let out a yell of frustration before Church felt another presence seeking to take control of the Meta's brain then followed by another.

Judging by the unusually silent yet fuming figure that is Omega and the strained and slightly angered face of Sigma, he guessed it was them.

Church found it sort of hilarious that mental battles didn't involve need to involve "physical" violence but more of like playing a videogame with other players… but less fun and more stressing and onerous than playing a videogame.

Church, with all his ghostly might, clashed against Omega and Sigma, their presence even more uncomfortably close than it was before in the mute's mind. What's worse was that he began having flashes of the Meta's memories in his head, much like how the cylinder fuck that is Epsilon sent out painfully irritating images in his mind!

But this was different. He didn't just experience the Meta's pain, or Maine if his memories were reliable to go by, he felt his sadness, his anger, his kindness, everything! It was all so, so… it was fucking unbearable! He felt the pain that the freelancer went through when he was shot by a sniper rifle in order to spare the cyan freelancer… _Carolina,_ Church realized as more memories rushed into his mind.

He could feel how the Meta cared for this Carolina. How he risked his very life to use his own body as a shield for her. The memory of the Meta filled with joy and gratefulness to Carolina when she handed her A.I to her friend as an act of generosity.

Sigma, he was the A.I that Carolina lent to the Meta, the A.I that would cause him to go insane and almost kill the very person that he saved.

Even his jealousy towards Tex was apparent…

Tex.

She was here in his memories. Why wouldn't she be? Nonetheless it surprised Church, seeing his girlfriend in the Meta's mind and totally kick his ass. That suddenly brought up a massive migraine as memories, not of the Meta's, began emerging from the depths of his mind.

 _"Who? Who died?!"_ He remembered as the memory began flashing right in front of him. It was painful, incredibly so. _"Agent Texas," replied that voice, that same voice that spoke with Washington._

That's when it hit. Pain, pain unlike any other erupted from his mind. Like one ultimate migraine that left him trembling and tired. The battle for the Meta's mind wouldn't last long now, and Church knew it. That abrupt backflash took way too much energy out of him, too much that he knew he'd lose.

 _Washington, you better get that Emp activated, because I don't think I can hold two of these assholes for long,_ Church thought, with haggard mental heaving.

"Church?" another voice said, but female. With what little concentration he could spare, he drifted his eyes towards the area the voice came from, meeting eyes with the only love of his life. "Tex?" Church said incredulous before the world went dark.

General Ironwood was what most people referred to him to. He was a revered headmaster of a huntsman academy, a general of the military, and a member of the Atlesian council. The only other person that he had close ties with that held almost the same amount influence and respect amongst the populace was the famous headmaster of Beacon academy, Ozpin.

But unlike Ozpin, General Ironwood was quick into action, holding more sway with the most powerful military in Remnant while Ozpin had the loyalty of most huntsman and huntresses.

Ironwood chuckled at the thought, reminiscing the moment when he perused all the silly theories that the children of this generation came up with. "Do Ozpin and Ironwood have a rivalry?" some individuals would say, and though the two never actually saw everything eye to eye, they were companions against a common foe nonetheless.

A common foe that even the combined strength of the strongest military in Remnant and the hunters will be hard pressed against. So that was why he was here, walking in the hallway of a well hidden Atlesian facility, owned by some a benefactor of the military and government of Atlas itself.

It was their duty as humans to defend this world from the vile creatures known as grimm. They were beasts that deserved nothing more than a bullet straight through their head. The fact that their opponent was one of them only worsened the situation.

So it was projects like these that were created in order to maintain balance in this unforgiving world. Ironwood just hoped that it wouldn't end as a failure like the last one. As he approached a dna scan, he placed the palm of his left hand on the machine, feeling sudden pain before it subsided as quickly as it came. The titanium doors unlocked themselves as a computer generated feminine voice greeted his arrival.

As the doors slid open, the sight before him was something to admire. Several AK-130s, or Atlesian knight-130s, were scattered around the area, guarding what were most likely important machines that were vital for the project.

The room had an Atlesian feeling to it. The feeling of cool air touching your skin and the sight of well-dressed men and women chatting with one another in a calm manner inside a posh room filled with all sorts of machines and devices. It wasn't any different here as the scientists themselves had conversations with one another as they performed their work.

Well… that kind of got Ironwood miffed all of sudden, having to see the sight of them not performing their job properly. He would've reprimanded them if it weren't for a certain plump man with a beard come and greet him.

 _Oh no, Port!_ His mind immediately warned, making him back away all of a sudden, with a now strong urge to issue an evacuation to spare the men and women of his ludicrous stories. "Why so tense, admiral?" said the voice with blatant concern.

That sentence was all it took to snap him out of his panic as Port would've used his stunned expression to flaunt his physique. It would have probably gone something like this: "Ah, I see my masculine, manly figure has stunned you, Ironwood! It is quite alright to feel the need to be awe struck to such a magnificent huntsman such as myself! Go on, worship me!"

Okay, that last sentence was a bit of an exaggeration, but one other than Glynda, or anyone who knew Port for that matter, excluding Ozpin, would've been able to understand how relieved he was when he saw that it wasn't Port. Instead, a similarly rotund yet shorter man stood before him with a bright smile.

A sigh of relief left Ironwood before he greeted the man. "Ah, , I'm glad to finally meet you in person." The difference between Port and the man other than their height was also there facial hair, for while Port had a mustache Polendina had the sides of his face covered with hair, leading down to a beard.

"Yes so, General. Though I heard you became the headmaster of Atlas academy. I congratulate you for such a splendid achievement," Polendina complimented, though didn't seem particularly too interested with the topic.

"So, Polendina, I believe that you wouldn't have called me for a cup of coffee, now would you?" the general said, wishing to get on with the topic. _A documentary for the Great War is coming up at nine, Polendina. I'm not missing that shit._

"Heavens no, I prefer tea," the man replied. _So he's one of those types, huh? Ironwood thought._ "No, General. I contacted you to witness the first ever smart artificial intelligence in Remnant with an aura," Polendina continued, his face radiating with pride.

Ironwood nodded in understanding and said, "Polendina, you have already explicitly and descriptively explained the situation to me during our private conversations. What I want, is to see this prized machine with my very own eyes and to know if this machine is capable of exceeding the performance of a knight or the upcoming paladin."

Polendina gave him a bemused look. "I already informed you? I have haven't I? Oh well, look no further General, for my construct is right here," he said, gesturing towards a robotic mech that stood at the end of the room, attached will all sorts of cables and wires.

The robot was painted with cobalt paint and appeared to be more advanced than the standard knight, having a more human stature. It honestly looked to be more of a suit than a robot, as its structure implied as so. But just like a knight, it had no true face, but a helmet, a more human looking one, but a helmet nonetheless.

"It's supposed to resemble a human, General," Polendina explained, "It would be easier for the children to approach it, if so."

"You plan on sending it-"

"Him, general, it's a him," Polendina interrupted with a solemn face making Ironwood blink. For years Ironwood has interrogated and spoken to countless of individuals, slowly but surely noticing even the tiniest of details in both body movement and speech. For Polendina, his voice had a hint of sadness and desperation in it.

"Ah, yes, him," Ironwood corrected himself, taking in the fact that the robot did have a male stature. Polendina nodded and continued, "Remember General, if this project is to work, as well as the other two-"

"Excuse me, other two?" Ironwood asked, his interest having been piqued.

"What? I could've sworn I told you of that already," Polendina muttered, stroking his beard in thought. "Well, if I really haven't informed you yet, then all I can say that we have three different subjects for this project in case one fails. As for sending them to the cities… Well, I just can't wait to see them make friends."

Ironwood glared at the man doubting his decision. "Professor, these creations of yours are meant to-"

"I've already tested one of them and the results have been sensational!" the professor remarked with a colder tone than it was before. "But that subject isn't anything like your standard knight bodyguards, Ironwood. They feel too, General. It would be like sending an adult child into the battlefield, tainting their very view of Remnant. So general, please do understand my reasons as to why I'll tutor my children first."

Before Ironwood could even recover from that outburst, the Professor continued, "Uh, well, sorry for that general, that doesn't usually happen. Well, let's get this project on now shall we? Heard there's a documentary for the Great War, wouldn't want to miss that!"

The professor then called out to those present to go back to their stations and begin the activation of the robot.

Darkness. Darkness was all he could see, everywhere. There was no sound, no light, no infrastructure, just plain, pitch black darkness in its finest. He didn't know how he ended up in this place when he woke up just a few minutes ago, nor did he know where this place was. The only thing he could recall from the depths of his mind was pain.

The last thing he felt before he woke up was pain. That was as far as his memory could take him. The memory of being suddenly paralyzed and immobile, as everything seemed to stop to a halt as an overwhelming heat came from nowhere, basically scorching him. It felt like burning alive, except that he couldn't move nor could he scream as he was burnt alive.

There was no flame, as far as he was concerned. It was more like a flare of light that ended as quickly as it came. It was fast and yet it was slow. It was like he was viewing things in two different time streams. One, his pain lasted less than a second, the other, felt like an eternity.

But that wasn't even all of it! It made him furious that all he could remember was being burnt. His childhood, his friends, his rivals, all wiped from his memory! Did he even have friends? Did he even have a family?

For all he knew he was probably a criminal, an outlaw, or even a A.I that was tucked away in a box canyon! But he didn't know shit.

Not a single piece of damn useful information in his mind regarding his past life, other than that horrifying moment of being burned.

"Burned and merged," whispered a weak childlike voice somewhere deep in his mind.

His eyes widened. _Merged._ Another wave of memories came crashing into him, because of that word, being forcefully shoved into his mind, causing a severe migraine.

The new set of memories began flashing at him, painfully making him recall another dreadful moment.

 _"Merged with one another,"_ said a robotic voice.

He recalled what he felt when he was burnt to a crisp. Now he didn't just suffer through that intense, unbearable heat, oh no, he experienced another type of pain.

 _"Fused with one another,"_ said a nervous childlike voice.

It felt like having something inserted in you in an excessively brutal way. He felt it like it just transpired, like something was quickly, mercilessly thrust right into him. Then whatever that thing was, it began to spread inside him, like it was attempting to integrate itself into him.

 _"We are an amalgamation,"_ mused a calm yet eerie voice.

Seven times, he remembered. He underwent that same procedure seven times. He felt them enter his body, their "essence" integrating, becoming one with his. Yes, them. Whatever they were, he knew one thing, they were sentient and alive. So why? Why did they enter him?! Why did they have to cause him so much more pain!

 _"WE,"_ started a cold and sinister voice, "ARE UNITED!"

Then a bright light beamed before him, a bright and beautiful light.

"All systems are optimal and functioning at one hundred percent capacity," announced a black, shadowy figure making Polendina shiver.

 _Perhaps I ate the wrong set of pills today,_ he considered as he watched the obscure man. He swore he's been seeing too many of these figures around Atlas. It was just all too… unsettling. It was like they were too unimportant to be given faces… or clothes.

He then shook his head and attended the matter at hand. Another one of his children was being "awakened", he couldn't miss it! Even the documentary that Ironwood was visibly being antsy about could wait for this spectacular moment!

"Awakening of subject A-2 in 3…2…1," the wires and cables coursing with electricity detached themselves from the man's creation, releasing the machine. For a second, everything was silent as the robot hit the floor with a thud, standing fully upright.

Then the light from its visor powered on, followed by a twitch from its fingers. After that, the entire robot's head reared up towards the people present, as it observed each and every one of them.

The robot's attention then fixated itself on the General himself, to which the General raised his chest up and stared back at the robot. "You," it started, its voice rather low and robotically croaky as it got used with the voice module.

However, despite its low and rather raspy first words, the professor whooped with joy. "Sensational! His first word!"

The robot then turned its head towards Polendina and continued with a shout, "YOU SHALL ALL FACE OBLIVION!" as it jumped forth and caused mayhem.

 **So yeah, there it is. Review? Favorite? Follow? Yeah, it's all in you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Oh wow, how long has it been since I made this story? A month and a few days, maybe? But wow that took a long time for me to finish this chapter of the story. I blame myself and the celebrations that occurred. I especially blame my laziness. Though I must say that this chapter is fairly longer than the last one, though it hardly competes with those chapters that have, like, fifteen thousand words and above? Well anyway, here's my second chapter of this fanfic of mine!**

 **I do not own RWBY or the Red vs Blue series. The creator of both is Rooster teeth, check em out.**

* * *

To say that Felix was pissed was an understatement. What the fuck was Locus up to?! The moron had the perfect chance to kill them! The opportunity was right there to stab that idiotic, insufferable blue idiot, and to slit the throat of that incompetent, aquamarine sword wielder. So why, why didn't he? "Locus, what are you doing? You were supposed to kill them!" Felix said, confused.

Locus, that green helmeted moron, glanced at his left… before saying those damnable words, "No."

Felix recoiled in shock. "What?" he said in disbelief, followed by sword boy and shot gun grandpa saying the same exact word.

"No more killing," Locus continued, much to Felix's chagrin.

"What are you talking about?" Felix said with building anger "You're a soldier, remember?"

Locus shook his head in disagreement, taking three steps forward, saying, "I'm not a soldier, I'm a monster. Like you."

No one could see it, but Felix blinked. Was he insinuating that… no, they needed each other! One of many lies he's told Locus, of course, but the asshole didn't realize that, did he? After the war, his only goal and objective was to keep Locus under that same illusion and lie: that they needed each other.

So why, why was he acting like this now! Now, when he was surrounded by the galaxy's greatest losers with their guns pointed right at him. If Locus couldn't keep his shit straight, then he'd just have to kill him too.

But Felix knew that he couldn't. After all, he needed him.

Felix stood up, looking up at Locus. "Locus, we're partners, survivors. We need each other. What about our orders? Our reward? Becoming the ultimate weapon," Felix said, in a desperate attempt to knock some sense into his partner.

"I'm not doing this for the reward; I'm not doing this because someone told me to; I'm doing this for me," Locus replied.

 _Plagiarizing me right before you betray me, huh? Felix mentally seethed._

For a moment after that, Felix's mind was silent, completely, utterly silent. I mean, why wouldn't it be?

This… idiot had the audacity to actually consider abandoning him? His partner. Partner since the Great War, was abandoning him! Couldn't he see that they were the perfect match! That together they could patch each other's weaknesses!

 _But more so Felix's than his partners._

But it didn't seem so. All those years of manipulating and deceiving Locus of making him believe that they needed each other immediately went down the drain that moment.

Felix took a step back and glanced at the reds and the blues with their guns still trained up at him. These multi colored idiots have been a thorn on his side ever since he was assigned to watch over them. Over the course of his mission, he had a front row seat to view their stupid actions.

The moment when they stepped into the New Republic's HQ and revealed their "skills" to them, he thought that they were easy enough to eliminate, to kill. But now… now he wasn't going to play with his victims anymore.

Felix lowered his head in anger and gave out a hefty sigh. "Then you can die with the rest of them," those were his last words before he immediately activated his energy sword and flung it at Locus, which he easily dodged.

He kicked the SAW that was right between his feet into his hands and began shooting at the reds carelessly, missing most shots whilst the reds ran out of the way.

"Get him!" yelled the pink(it's lightish red!) idiot, signaling their attack, allowing Felix to instantly turn around and activate his hard light shield, deflecting their bullets back to them.

He turned around once more towards the reds only for something oddly familiar destructive beeping object stuck on his shield.

"Huh?" Felix said, perplexed as he stared at the beeping object. "Guess we learned a thing or two from you villains after all," the red leader said wryly.

"Hey Felix," said Tucker with a bomb in hand, catching Felix's attention. "Catch," he finished, tossing the bomb over to Felix, landing near his feet.

Felix stared at the bomb with terror, realizing his predicament. _No, no, no, it can't end like this! I was going to be rich! I was going to kill you all!_

Felix looked back at up Tucker, desperate.

"Wa-wait!" he pleaded, his answer came from the both bombs' explosion, blasting him off over the edge.

Felix screamed at the top of his lungs as he plummeted down to the ground, his ears still ringing from the double explosion. It was that moment where his mind snapped.

A feeling of helplessness and dread flowed through him as he fell. The last time he felt these emotions was when the War ended, when he discovered his pathetic weakness. And it drove him insane.

He didn't want to die! He refused to! His mind couldn't think straightly as he focused on only one thing: survival. He needed to survive, he just had to!

What of the money that Hagrove promised him?! He couldn't die now! He just couldn't!

And for the first time in ages, tears rolled down Felix's eyes as he fell to his doom.

Then with a sudden jolt of pain from his back, everything went black for Felix. His last thought was filled with hatred and insanity. All that was in his mind was a hopeless thought of survival…

* * *

It is said that your entire life flashes right before your eyes moments before your death. For Felix, it wasn't his life that he experienced, but another's. And this was just right after that bone shattering death that he only undergone a minute ago.

Before even this sudden, abrupt series of memories that flashed right before him, there was nothing but pure, pitch black darkness. A darkness that was so thick that he could barely see, nay, he absolutely, totally couldn't see a damn thing!

Thoughts, hundreds of thoughts raced in his mind, all bewildered of his unusual

 _Where the hell am I?_

 _Why the fuck is it dark?_

 _Why do I hate the color aqua?_

 _Why do I feel like a relentless, merciless asshole?_

 _Am I guy?_

Yes, hundreds of thoughts were immediately made and dismissed, all of which were mainly focused on his selfish desires.

But then one thought rose against the rest, something that just sprung forth that it greatly distressed him the second he gave it consideration.

 _Who… am I?_

That last thought was something that paralyzed him entirely.

 _Who am I? Who am I?!_ He furiously thought, aggravated that he couldn't even recall his own name, something so simple and basic that it shouldn't even have bothered him. But it did.

He didn't know his name, his family, his friends, worse, his achievements, his adventures, everything he might've accomplished, all swept under an invisible rug.

 _Who am I?!_ he thought frantically once more, the idea of not even having even the slightest clue of who he was tore his mind into several pieces.

His last memory was that of sound only, traumatic as it was. It was the sound of wind rushing past his ears rapidly before that loud and disturbing sound of bones fracturing.

Then after that, he ended up here, in a godforsaken and bleak area where there he could literally do nothing.

No riches to spend, no people to deceive and humiliate, and no hot women to fu-

But he was cut off short by a torrent of voices and images, ones that he had no doubt that they weren't his.

Like water it simply passed through the cracks and holes in his mental defense, which was zero as he had no mental defenses. What he was seeing, what he was viewing, no, experiencing, it wasn't his life, that was apparent enough, seeing people that just click in his mind.

The voices on the other hand… they all clicked, though he couldn't quite place them. Pictures and images of people he never met before showed themselves to him, and events that these people partook in.

A world of bloody evolution, a low voice whispered, as more images of people were shown right before him. Knowledge and information of this strange world were inserted in his mind, even if he couldn't give a single shit about them.

A hooded girl red like roses in a snowy terrain, the next was a girl in snow white clothing with a solemn look as she faced a humongous automaton, another was a girl in all black on a train, and the last of this particular group was a raging blond, causing utter mayhem in a bar, a rather good bar too.

He wondered if he'd be able to pay that place a visit one day.

But it didn't stop there, as more unique individuals were revealed to him.

But of all these people he just saw, not that he gave a single damn about any them, he held a particular interest on one kid, a pathetic, poor excuse of what they call a huntsman, but managed to catch his eye.

It wasn't because of his impressive skills, oh no, he was absolutely terrible at it! The kid was like the offspring of two incompetent parents who failed at everything.

He was weak, simply put; his love for his team would only further hamper his progress towards being a true warrior.

The kid had nothing about him that would've piqued his interest… other than his voice. The voice that the kid had… well it was his voice as well.

To Felix, this didn't hold much value. So what if someone had his manipulative, sharp tongued, beautiful, handsome voice? What can he even do with this useless knowledge?

Why lend him information about a place, people, and culture that he couldn't even give a single fuck on?

 _"Yeah, why should I endow you with such invaluable information of this world when that would just give you a head start with your fellows,"_ a voice wondered out loud, startling Felix.

"Who's there?! Where are you?!" Felix demanded, turning his head in all directions, but the thick darkness was all that he could see, nothing more.

 _"My name's not something you'd be interested in, especially one like you. Though I am fairly well-known where I come from… shame it was my time to leave," the voice mused._

Felix balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. "All right, oh powerful and mystic being, can you tell me where the hell I am, because I don't appreciate waking up and staying in a pitch black place all my life!"

The voice sighed. _"You don't have to worry about that, you've already been chosen, as horrible as a candidate you are. But perhaps you'll undergo a series of changes. Perhaps you'll even become someone who everyone thought you were,"_ the voice continued, frustrating Felix.

"Just stop with your fucking vague explanations! I don't know who the hell you are, but I want out of this mess!" Felix yelled in anger.

 _Perhaps you'll become someone who everyone thought you were,_ Felix repeated in his mind in a childlike manner. The asshole knew him, or at least knew about his past! He almost even inquired about it, but he didn't want to look like he needed to depend on the guy. Though it was still extremely tempting to be told of his past.

 _"You want out of this mess? Don't worry, you'll be getting out of it soon enough… though you're right, why should I hand you knowledge on the next world you'll be reborn on?"_

Then a blinding light came, one that felt like it was setting his body ablaze. It only lasted for a moment, a moment in which he only felt the relaxing warmth before he felt nothing at all… and felt everything the next second.

He didn't understand what that person spoke of. He didn't know why he awoke in that empty void of a place. He didn't even understand why he forgot everything about himself.

But none of that mattered now, not a single one of it. He didn't need his memories because he'll need space for another life's worth of them. He didn't need a single reminder of his cruel, sadistic past, because it may affect what he may become in the next one.

So Felix will be generously gifted his wanted survival. He will continue on with his life like any other. He'll be granted something only a few individuals can relate to, not that they'll remember any of it.

So he got his wish, but not in the way he anticipated.

And as the bright light seemed to dim and as he saw more new colors than blinding white, the cries of a new born baby filled the air. The cries of a new member of the Arc family.

* * *

Fall had just come to the kingdom of Mistral, making the deciduous trees shed thousands of their color changed leaves, littering the roads that they went through. The farmers who tirelessly grew their crop at the start of the year started harvesting them since the month of September, undoubtedly preparing for the coming freezing winter that will soon descend upon the kingdom.

Fall, Autumn, the third season, or whatever you like to call it, it was a beautiful and breath taking time of year. The cool, crisp air was refreshing, brushing past a man's blond hair, making him let out a relaxed sigh.

The children, who were either obligated to do so or for the sake of their parents, were piling up the leaves colored, yellow, orange, and red into heaps away from the road, keeping it as tidy as possible.

To Austin Arc, a professional huntsman, the season of Fall was as stunning as ever. In fact, the sight that he was seeing now was a close reminiscent of Forever Fall forest, a forest named for having the characteristics of the Fall season no matter what, even if snow has already begun to drop from the sky, retaining that peculiar yet unique part of it for centuries.

Though the difference was that this part of the kingdom was not teeming with vicious Grimm wandering about, searching for unsuspecting humans… and some honey if they're Ursa. Austin smiled. Forever Fall was a a place he rarely visited nowadays, mostly due to the fact that he was too occupied with his missions.

But it was a grand place where he made good memories on. Especially due to the fact that it always maintains that Fall season appearance, making far the more lovely at sun set. And it would always stay in that condition. Fall was always a great season to experience.

Whenever his missions ended and had time for his wonderful and rowdy children, Fall was a good season to enjoy it with them. Considering the fact that most of his missions normally end in either Fall or winter, and winter was far less pleasant than the denizens of Vacuo think it is.

Let's see if they'll still be _longing for winter when they get frostbite!_

You have no idea how many times he's been into arguments about winter season against Vacuo citizens. Doesn't mean that they've adapted to the harsh climate of their home kingdom that it'll be a walk in the park for them during winter time!

Going outside during winter is risking getting lost inside a blizzard, while Fall was a great time for going outdoors and hiking, having to openly view and immerse yourself with nature. Though of course his children would probably have brought their scrolls and bicker amongst one another, but it was fairly amusing to see his children squabble.

It was surely a great time of the year to return to his home village and be with his family once again. After all, it had been more than a year since he last saw them. He thought of his loving wife Isabelle and their sweet yet troublesome nine children. Yes, nine children, as ridiculous as that may sound. But what can he say, he was a busy man, both in duty and at home!

All he had to worry about was to not get eaten by Grimm and to come up with at least a believable explanation for the constant sounds of slapping and rocking that their children heard from their parents' room. The latter was far more difficult.

Alexia, the last child Isabelle conceived would be eleven now actually, he recalled, wondering how much of her personality would've changed in a single year.

 _Hopefully she doesn't become more hyper active, I could barely handle her when she was still a baby,_ he groaned. He seriously needed to slow down on baby production, since there's just too many!

Though, as insane having nine children is, it was still a quite the feat. He actually thought that he deserved a reward, or even some praise for a huntsman and caliber of his caliber.

Yeah, nine children… nine children he barely even interact with. The last time he paid them a visit was over a year ago, and it lasted only for a single month before he left off to work. Being a huntsman… it's a pleasure and a curse to be one.

When kids watch television, or look upon their huntsman dolls(action figures!) for inspiration, they see a noble, intrepid, and cool hero that they look onto for inspiration. They see men and women who valiantly fend off rows upon rows of the soulless Grimm for the sake of others. They focus on that aspect of a huntsman, the image that the media presents to boost up moral for the coming generations.

The media doesn't go into the gory and gruesome implications after a Grimm incursion. They don't really delve into the amount of casualties and the quantity of lien for damage reparations, but even if they do it ends with the usual "it shall be avenged" or some other high note that can liven up the spirits.

Austin hated that part of his line of work, but he understood its motive. The kingdoms couldn't afford a mass panic, it would be detrimental to their continued existence. A mass panic would attract Grimm of course, and the Grimm would only serve to increase and spread that negativity. The last thing that the council needs is a massive full scale Grimm invasion right at their front door.

So they use whatever influence they have to keep the populace in a state of harmony and order, doing as much as they can to hold all the horrors of reality. Whatever they deemed to be too harmful to the emotions of their citizens would then be altered and explained in such a way that it mitigates the overall effect to the people.

They encourage parents to tell their children of the glorious huntsmen and huntresses and their numerous victories against mankind and faunuskind's greatest foe. And they do a damn good job at it. Wherever kids may go they'll be reminded of how strong and bold huntsmen are.

Schools, homes, cemeteries… Even in funerals the mood wasn't as somber as it usually should be for a normal civilian. A huntsmen dying while on a mission though not unheard of it was still highly unlikely, but on the rare occasion that they don't survive the mission, then the huntsmen academies normally get involved. They had to uphold that image of huntsmen for those who strive to become one, or for the citizens to fully and utterly believe and trust the kingdoms.

It actually made him ponder as to how his funeral will play out. Death, something that always accompanies a huntsman in their journeys, whether it be theirs, a civilian's, or Grimm's, it's always there. It's one of the things that gave huntsmen the popularity they have, to lead the front line defense against the black, sinister tide that are the Grimm, knowing full well that death will strike at any time.

 _How will I die?_

 _Will it be with my family, or thousands of miles away from home?_

 _How will the academies stage my funeral?_

For Austin, the latter one was something he always contemplated. Death was something that will inevitably catch up to us, a force of life that is just as normal as living itself. It didn't bother him too much, less so than the thought of how his family would take it.

Though that would probably also depend on how the academies set up his funeral. The academies do attempt to lessen the overall sadness of the dead huntsman relatives by making the funeral be more light and a little bit more lively. Grieving and lamenting would only serve to attract the pernicious Grimm.

Though there were some cases in which the academies stepped a little too far in their endeavor to brighten up the family's' mood. Some of the dead huntsmen's relatives actually even lash out in some rare cases with much hate and anger, fervently attempting to land a blow on the academy's headmaster.

Heh, even the way how funerals are done is a serious matter in the cruel yet wonderful world of Remnant.

Every huntsman and huntress had to cope with the high probability of death during missions. That was why huntsmen normally had teams of four assembled, to rely on others for the emotional support they need, for gods knew they needed it. Even Austin, as brilliant and superb of a huntsman he thinks he is, had to get accustomed to life as a huntsman, ever vigilant and quick footed.

Even now he suffers from the incredibly difficult missions he's assigned to(it's more that he insisted to go on difficult missions than he was assigned to them, as life threatening missions are usually voluntary)

Whenever he was in deep thought of the uncertain, unpredictable future, pondering on what events may come his way.

 _Will I get out of this mission alive?(extended: Of course I will, I'm the mighty and venerated Austin Arc)_

 _Will I ever see my family again?_

 _Will I be able to spend enough time with them before I leave for another mission._

Being a huntsman and a father was tough business, and Austin Arc could fully affirm this. To choose between duty and family would be easy in other jobs, but to choose between your children and an endangered settlement at the borders of the kingdom were the type of choices he had to make.

At least he frequently had video calls with them via his scroll, catching up with what recent events that occurred while he was away. Always calling them during his their birthdays, because why wouldn't he?

It gave him great comfort to talk with his children while on a mission; it was something that gave him all the more reason to exert more effort just so he may come home early. They brightened his day while he was on missions, and to contact them and converse with them through his scroll was something he greatly anticipated everyday while on the job… though at one point their youngest did mention that he called far too often.

But who could blame him?

Having children just changes your life, for better or for worse, and he was very glad it was for the better for him. And if there was no time to call his family, all he simply did was to recall his past exploits, to recall and remind himself of the hundreds of people he saved in his missions.

The missions were perilous and strenuous to both mind and body, but to see the grateful and relieved faces of the people he rescued was something that always warmed his heart, to become a constant reminder of why he wanted to be a huntsman: To become famous among the people! And to save their lives, that was also one of his motives.

From guarding the walls of the kingdoms and protecting settlements to escorting people, he did it all. And every bit of it was amazing…

Except that one time where he was escorting those aggravating merchants snobs with a superiority complex! He was almost tempted to abandon them.

He had hundreds of missions he had gone to, all of these missions he either emerged successful, or discontinued. All of his previous exploits and victories were things he prided himself on for the people he saved. And in his logic, such tremendous display of bravery and skill should be spread through stories, so that's what his children were about to experience when he came home!

And speaking of stories, he thought that he best continue with the one he was just telling.

"The beowulf leapt at me with lightning quick speed, but a huntsman such as I had the reflexes to match! With all the force that I could muster, I slapped the beowulf with my bare hand, snapping its neck and fracturing its skull!" He shouted out loud, retelling his wondrous journeys through Grimm infested territory.

"Meanwhile, my fellow compatriots," Austin said, gesturing at the two other huntsmen inside the horse caravan. "were fiercely battling the Grimm I generously offered them to kill-"

One of the huntsmen inside the caravan snorted, disbelieving every word that he said.

"My fellow huntsman, Oobleck, with his ever present mug and trusty thermos, began blasting at incoming Ursai left and right, blowing them all to kingdom come!" he continued, making several hand movements that resemble explosions and mugs.

At the moment he finished that sentence, the other huntsman present inside the caravan took a long sip from his mug, letting out a relaxed sigh afterwards.

"And dear old Port was nowhere to be found! He was possibly devoured by a beowulf as his girth made him a mouthwatering meal for Grimm! Of course, with the size of his stomach, I believe it proved difficult for him to move around the terrain. I'd like to propose a toast to the incompetent and recently departed Professor Por-"

Austin was cut short when the huntsman who snorted earlier made an ahem, giving him an irritated look.

Austin gave the annoyed huntsman a close look and waved him off. . His fellow huntsman was a plump and rotund man wearing a double breasted burgundy suit that seemed to burst at any moment, and with both hands firmly gripped on their blunder buss axe, as if unsure whether to strike Austin or not.

"I have no idea who this man is, please do ignore him," Austin advised to the other two people inside the caravan.

"How could you say such an outrageous thing?!" the other huntsman exclaimed, clearly exasperated from his fellow huntsman's feigned ignorance. "To say that I would have been felled by a measly beowulf is ludicrous! Me, Professor Port, being defeated by a beowulf?! Never!"

Port then turned to the other two inside the caravan, lowering an eyebrow to the female(which is to say he winked) "Do not believe the fallacies that this man spreads to tarnish my good reputation as a huntsman, good people!" he advised, giving Austin a look full of disdain… with his tongue pointed out.

"How incredibly mature, Port. How mature…" Austin muttered, reciprocating in kind to Port's disdainful look by scowling. "Mature? Oh and your fictional, fantasies you call stories are?" Port hissed, leaning in close to his nemesis.

Austin's eye twitched. _So we're talking about stories now, eh?_ He thought, gritting his teeth. "Why, I have not the faintest clue what you mean, Peter. I mean, if one were to consider someone's stories absurd or fictional, I believe it would be yours!" Austin accused, pointing at the man.

The female of the two other civilians inside the caravan began to sink further back into their seats, even whispering in a frightened manner. "What did we get ourselves into?" the female asked, the anxiousness in her voice very much apparent.

Hearing his great and inspirational stories be maligned by his nemesis was something the magnificent, the burly, and the stout Peter Port would not go unpunished! His grip on his prized blunder buss axe tightened, as he menacingly stood up and-

 _*Thud*_

Ah, Peter Port, in all his frustration and manly rage, forgot something extremely crucial right before engaging an enemy: To be aware of one's surroundings. In this case, the ceiling of the caravan was too low for him to fully stand up, thus leading to a humiliated Peter.

Austin burst out in laughter from the conclusion of the tense few seconds he and Peter faced each other, unable to swallow back his uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. Oobleck, who was by his side, had face palmed, obviously quite embarrassed that two innocent civilians had to witness what he had to put up through every day.

 _Is this what Glynda feels like?_ Oobleck thought, shaking his head and taking a sip from his mug, using it to carry him off to a land cacao beans and coffee, away from his irritating, squabbling companions.

After having a minute for himself, drowning most of his troubles and headaches with his sweet, intoxicating brew of coffee, Oobleck sighed, giving his mug of coffee another look as if disbelieving he already drained it most of its contents.

Oobleck turned his head towards both friends Austin and Port, only to see them spouting more vulgar insults and nonsensical ones at each other, basically at each other's throats. He looked back at the empty mug in his hand and sighed.

 _Why must you be empty, couldn't you have lasted till they stopped bickering?_

With a hefty sigh, Oobleck sought to resolve the mess the two got into.

"Austin, Port, would you please settle this in a less vehement manner? You're giving me a massive headache, and the other two in this caravan are obviously terrified," he added, gesturing towards the two who were being as quiet as physically possible.

"Don't forget about me!" called out the driver of said caravan, grumbling in a manner. "You lot will be arriving at your destination in a few more minutes anyways… _fucking glad I don't have to deal with you lot after that_ ," the driver grumbled not audible enough for any of the three huntsmen to overhear.

"See, we'll be arriving at your home village in a matter of time, Austin!" Oobleck said encouragingly, trying his best not to remind them of the verbal argument just seconds ago. "I do believe that we shouldn't spend our time quarrelling with one another, right?"

Oops, he reminded them.

Peter took this as his chance to continue his point, but was cut off immediately by his dear old friend Oobleck. "Gentlemen, let's please talk of something other than your ridiculous stories!"

Both Austin and Peter's mouths opened to retort, but Oobleck pressed on. "Peter, you start. Talk to your fellow huntsman in a good manner."

At first, Peter seemed to disagree with Oobleck's proposal, but seeing Oobleck's mug arm sporadically shaking in barely hidden frustration made him do otherwise. "I heard your son failed admirably to enter the tournaments," Peter started, only to hear Oobleck let out an exasperated sigh and to see Austin's eye twitch.

Peter merely stared at him bemused. "What? I was merely stating how his son was even able to manage to get that far into the- aargh!" He was interrupted when Austin had enough, leaping at his mustache friend and dragging him down on the ground.

His stories were one thing, but his children were a whole lot something else! He didn't even know that his son attempted to join a tournament! Spoilers much! This was just something that Austin wouldn't allow Port to get scot free from.

In Oobleck's point of view, what he saw was a pathetic excuse of a wrestling match. In a tight and confined space, there really wasn't enought space to move freely about, so Austin's grapple only resulted to them being stuck in between the two seats that separated theirs' and the other two folk who do not hold any significance to this story.

Oobleck sighed and shook his head. If Glynda were here, she'd know what to do. She'd also probably be frowning on his poor way of resolving the issue.

"Oobleck!" he heard Peter cry, pointing at his prize weapon while he was pinned on the caravan's floor, desperately holding back Austin. "Hand me my blunder buss, old friend! There's still time to rid the world of the menace that is Austin Arc!"

Oobleck looked down at Peter's blunder buss and back to Peter, giving a few seconds before his decisions was made.

He shook his head.

"Oobleck! Nooo!" Peter echoed, before he went back to battling Arc.

"Ever the drama queen, Peter, ever the drama queen," Oobleck muttered, taking out his thermos, to which he recalled still had coffee inside it!

Joy!

He opened the thermos and poured a reasonable amount of coffee into his mug, only millimeters away from overflowing, just the way he liked it. With careful balancing, he took a sip and began relishing and enjoying that sweet, divine taste.

He wondered about Austin's children though, as he never really met the cheerful and rambunctious bunch. Only thing he ever known about the Austin's children was that there were nine of them! Nine of them!

That number alone was staggering. Though to hear one of them almost got into the tournaments… well that was fascinating. He wondered what those children were doing now. He was so eager to meet them.

* * *

Inside the Arc household, everything was in utter mayhem.

"What do you mean you forgot!" the eldest of the siblings, Joan, shrieked, still disbelieving the situation she was currently placed into.

"We've been preparing for his arrival for days now, how could you not have noticed?!" she almost screamed. This was a disaster, a total utter nightmare!

Ever since their father contacted them of him coming home, their mother Isabelle had them working for the surprise party almost every day! They had a cake, a banquet of food, as he did say he was bringing home friends.

But the problem was that the cake was half eaten and most of the food were on the ground, and in the middle of it all was… of course.

Jaune Arc, her clumsy, absolutely stupid younger brother! She couldn't even comprehend how he managed to fuck this up! How he literally thought that a cake, that they prepared just days before for their dad, was something to eat before their dad came! She couldn't fathom what type of logic her younger brother used.

"I know, I know! I guess I was just tired and went down to have a midnight snack," Jaune explained shamefully.

"And you didn't think for one second what you were doing?

Jaune squirmed. "Well… only after I ate a large portion of it. The taste was delicious though, so I can say dad would've loved it!" he said, attempting to placate his already enraged sister.

Joan's eye twitched. "Yeah, you're right, he would've loved all of it!" she agreed.

Jaune sighed in relief, at least his sister was with him on that one.

"He also would've enjoyed the other splattered cakes that fell on the floor after your little charade last night!" she hissed.

Jaune blinked.

 _Or maybe not…_

"He'd also savor the ants feasting on what's left of the sweet chicken we prepared for him!" she continued with her sarcastic tone, unrelenting.

"Okay, okay! Sorry!" Jaune said, backing away from his sister.

"Sorry? Do you think a sorry is going to make up for this?!" she said, gesturing at all the fallen food littered around.

Joan sighed, scratching her head.

 _This is just too much!_

"Jaune, I do hope you and Isaac made some sort of plan to fix this," she groaned, exasperated.

Fourteen year old Jaune Arc shone brightly, a smile forming on his face. "We did just right after all of this happened," he assured her, taking out what seemed to be a walky talky.

"What's this?" Joan asked, clearly clueless as to what the object signified.

"It's a walky talky, it can-"

"I know what it is, just what does it have to do with the plan?!"

Jaune blinked, but explained anyways. "Well, Christine and Pauline are searching for some food replacements. They've been successful in their find, but all they need is cake. This is the walky talky that we can talk with them through," Jaune informed, gesturing at the one he was currently holding with his hand.

He gave it over to Joan and took out another walky talky. "And here's the one for Isaac and Alexia! They're the lookouts, they'll alert us if they see dad coming."

"This sounds like some kind of amateur family movie," Joan blurted out, but Jaune ignored her.

Jaune then immediately closed his mouth to the walky talky and began to speak through it. "Isaac, how's it going over there?"

The response was not what he anticipated. "For the last time Torch, don't call me this early in the morning!" the voice whined, obviously irked. "I'm trying to sleep here!

Jaune blinked.

 _Was he?_

"Wha- What? No?! It's me, Jaune!" He reminded him, puzzled as to why his brother thought he would be somebody else.

 _Who was this Torch?_

Jaune mentally shrugged, knowing Isaac would probably just give him some sort of ridiculous lie.

"And were you sleeping over there, Isaac?!" Jaune added in almost shriek like manner, quite frantic as his dad could've possibly slipped past unnoticed.

The voice of Isaac snorted, and replied, "Oh, it's just you, thought it was someone else. And regarding if I was sleeping, well… if it makes you feel any better, Alexia's on watch duty, right now! Oh wait, she's also sleeping…" Isaac muttered the last sentence in an almost amused manner.

"Jaune, you got to see this. Alexia looks like a bat picking her nose. She's literally hanging upside down! Hold on, I'm just going to take a picture of- wait, where the hell is my scroll?"

Jaune's left eye twitched, and Joan who was right beside him was clearly unimpressed. "Isaac, be serious! Dad could've possibly gotten past you while you were snoring in your hiding spot!" Jaune said, impatiently waiting for the arrival of his two other sisters with the replacement cake and food.

"Hey, I wasn't the idiot who ate dad's cake! But don't worry Jaune, dad's not going to get past me!" Isaac proclaimed proudly.

"He's a fully-fledged hunter with years of experience against all sorts of grimm," Jaune pointed out. Seriously, doesn't mean that Isaac was more skilled than he was, something that Isaac always reminded him, doesn't mean that he could take on dad! That was just plain hubris right there.

"Well, if you put it that way, then of course it would sound like that he could get past me! Plus, I have a reason as to why he wouldn't have gone past me, anyways!"

Joan took the walky talky from Jaune's grip and spoke right through it, "And what is that?!" Of all the sisters Jaune had, Joan was the one less tolerant of Isaac's shenanigans. Said shenanigans normally involved something to do with Jaune and the word humiliation, much to Jaune's displeasure, of course.

"Oh, since dad's here already!" he cheerfully told them, though he knew that their expressions would be less than delighted. "He just arrived with two other huntsmen on a caravan, they're heading straight towards you guys already. IYeah, they're getting a little too close for comfort, I'm leaving. I'll use Alexia to stall them," Isaac said, before he began standing up.

"Wa-Wait!" Jaune stammered, quickly swiping the walky talky out of his sister's hand as he had came up with an idea. "How about you send Alexia to us and you'll stall and spy on dad and his friends," Jaune suggested, sweat trickling down from his forehead.

 _Christine, Pauline, what's taking you guys so long?!_

At first, silence was all Jaune could hear from the Isaac's side, then a sigh. "This wasn't part of our agreement, Jaune. All you told me was to keep an eye out for dad, then after that you'd pay me lien," he hissed.

Joan gave Jaune a "explain" type of glare, to which he responded, "It's Isaac, what do expect when you ask him a favor?"

Jaune turned back to his walky talky and spoke, "Isaac, come on, you'll be able to buy us time longer than Alexia would, or maybe provide us whatever information you could about them! You know, like spy on them."

On the other side, Isaac's eye twitched. "Jaune, if I get caught then dad's going to get suspicious, and we'll all be in trouble! I can't stand any more of his stories, Jaune! I can't!"

"And we'll all be in trouble if he finds Alexia, our youngest sister, out there all by herself. Also, if it weren't for your blatant abhorrence to his stories then it wouldn't have become a punishment for you anyways!" Jaune retorted, stifling a 's reactions to their father's stories were always enjoyable.

"Touche, Jaune, but if I get caught you'll be paying me double!"

Before Jaune could even object, Isaac had already gone.

* * *

Isaac closed the distance to his dad, maintaining a far enough distance that he was just well out of their earshot whilst being able to observe them from a distance. He chose not to wake up his little sister, something that could wait for later after he finished spying on his dad. Yeah, leaving her alone in the middle of the forest?

She'll be fine!

 _Dad did say that there was once a man who lurked these woo-_

No! What was he thinking? The man who his dad told them of in one of his absurd stories? That particular story wasn't even an adventure, even! He wouldn't stoop down so low to use his dad's stories as reliable evidence for shit. He was an excellent and proficient huntsman, but his stories were simply nonsensical gibberish that he made up. And even if some of his stories did occur in the past, the truth behind them was probably buried by the hundreds of exaggerated versions that he chose instead.

Isaac sighed, quickening his pace to keep up with his father. He didn't need to take care of Alexia, that he knew. The girl, despite her addiction to her scroll, was an adventurous girl who knew her way in and out of the forest. If she tripped, she'd wince then stand up, brush off the dirt off of her body, and continue on as if nothing ever happened. If she saw a raccoon snarling at her, she'd probably lunge at it and wrap it in a tight embrace. She was tough and insane like that…. Which meant it was total pain to irritate her.

She was a rambunctious and active little girl who JUST wouldn't stop what she was doing no matter what! It was aggravating! If she set her sights on a goal she'd never stop until she, or someone she hired, had accomplished said goal. His threats did not deter her not one bit, if her slightly bemused face was anything to go by during those occasions. In fact, she might even take them as a challenge and taunt him that he couldn't catch her by the neck and break every single bone in her body. It had been tempting for him to accept the challenge but doing so might've made him look childish… and a murderer of course.

It was that reason that, even if she was asleep, he knew that she'd be fine.

Besides, she was perfectly safe here in this forest, since grimm were practically nonexistent around the village, with sentries patrolling the borders of the forest keeping a keen eye for any. Speaking of forests, they provide excellent cover, no? The shrubbery and the thousands of fallen leaves would've been great to hide against.

Well, not for Isaac.

In terms of stealth, he wasn't the best at it, not by a long shot. He was skilled and adept at hand to hand combat and he was told to be a rather persuasive person, though whether that was because of his charisma or his threats, he did not know. But damn was he good at those two! Stealth was something else entirely, something that he actually found difficult. In this case, the distance separating both him and his dad proved his point that he was just awfully unlucky when it came to sneaking on someone, if the several movie clichés that transpired during that time were anything to go by.

Said clichés ranged from stepping on several sticks to flat out tripping and cursing from the pain. Even from this distance, the sounds of crunching and cursing that he was making should've been fairly audible to his father and his companions, at least.

Though it risked his exposure, he needed to get closer to them to hear their conversations, something that might prove invaluable sometime in the future. He highly doubted that they were actually speaking of anything of significant for him, but it did raise the stakes and his adrenaline. Plus, what did he really have to lose?

If he gets caught, Jaune pays him, and if he doesn't get caught, Jaune still pays him. It was a win-win situation! He'll get his dough either way. He'd make sure of it.

As he neared dad and his friends even further, he began hearing a faint sign conversation, as there was still some distance between him and his dad. His dad still wore the same bullet proof vest with the words "Best huntsman ever" in the color gold that they gave him the last time he paid them a visit. The vest really didn't have much in it in terms of protection, as a good strike from the stinger of a death stalker would puncture it with relative ease. But it was a solid reminder that he had a caring family waiting for him back home.

It was also painted and redesigned in such a way that it had the Arc symbol and color scheme. Besides, everybody has a color scheme nowadays. Even the two huntsmen accompanying his father had their own color schemes. One of them was the color green, the other the color brown.

Isaac blinked. He didn't actually pay much attention to their physique, but the frame of his father's companions did not strike him as that of a huntsman's. One was a lanky green haired man with spectacles, who seemed to pay more attention to the mug and thermos in his hands than Isaac's father and the other huntsman.

The other man was more round and plump than his green haired friend, with two bushy eyebrows and a mustache. He also wore a burgundy suit that somehow managed to withstand his huge stomach, though it still looked like it would burst open any moment.

Unfortunately, there weren't any grimm to lure towards them, which would've been perfect for Isaac to assess the other two huntsmen's combat prowess and their weapon of choice. While it was apparent that mustache man made use of a blunder buss… or is it an axe? Blunder buss axe?

Whatever it was, at least Isaac knew about it, taking in whatever he could about its details. It was something like a hobby for him to analyze a person's strengths and weaknesses, always observing no matter what, even in a conversation.

It calmed him to be aware of a person's faults and their abilities, knowing that he was either above them, or that he knew something about them that he could exploit. He was a wary person, what can he say? It also served him well during the tournaments, though foul play was to be expected, he just didn't expect it from one of the most ostensibly innocent people there. Admittedly, the man did seem off to Isaac, but when you get drunk then said man offers you punch?

Well, the fact that Isaac was drunk and had an affable and kind reputation to his fans made him say yes.

Pissed as he was back then, he was still mildly amazed at how his adversary pulled it off. Isaac couldn't forget a name of someone who defeated him, strength, after all, was all that matters. Bush Floor? Bitch Florida?

 _Ah right, the guy called himself Flower,_ Isaac recalled, waiting for the day he'd get his sweet vengeance. The guy didn't even have any fascinating weapon that he wielded, restricting himself only to an assault rifle and a handgun.

But it sure annoyed Isaac less than someone having no apparent weapon at all! He was specifically referring to his dad's tall, lean, green spectacled friend. All he saw was that the man held a thermos and a mug full of coffee, nothing as obvious as a blunder buss axe.

The man either had no weapon, which was totally unlikely, or had one of those intricately made transforming weapons.

 _It's probably the latter._

But if so, then which of his items served as his weapons?

The mug? The thermos? His spectacles? His hair?

He wasn't sure, so he needed to get a closer look to be at least a bit more certain. There should be signs that one mundane looking object was also a weapon, right? All he had to do was detect said sign and then be satisfied.

 _Yeah, I just need to get near them and check if the man indeed has a wea-_

The sound of a twig snapping behind him drove him out of his thoughts.

Instinctively, he swiftly turned to face whatever foolish creature dared to sneak up on him, his arm reaching for his serrated combat knife to defend himself. But then he realized that he didn't bring his knife with him, having left the object at home, and was now dumbly clutching his right hip, the place where his knife should've been.

He also then realized that the ugly beast that was behind him had a distinct Arc resemblance, its hair being blond and having blue eyes. As far as he could tell, it was a female creature that had ruffled and messy hair with a quite the number of ants, leaves, and twigs stuck in it. The last thing about it that he considered odd was that it bared an uncanny but distinct resemblance to his youngest sister, Alexia, who he had abandoned near a leaf and twig littered area infested with ants.

 _Oh…_

"Hey, sis, how was your nap?" Isaac nonchalantly greeted her, lowering his guard. Alexia didn't speak, nor did she make any movements after Isaac greeted her, but she did give him one long lasting cold glare. Isaac shifted nervously, but it wasn't because of his sister's blatant anger, no, it was because his dad and his companions were getting away, without him verifying that the coffee addict had a weapon!

He needed to act quick, act in a way that he'll be able to get out of this brother-sister situation that Alexia was giving him. He needed to be smart with what he would say and do to convince her to let him go.

"Yeah, Alexia, if you could just, uh, go back to the ditch I left you and take a nap again, that would be appreciated." With that, Isaac turned and resumed his dad spying.

 _Huh, that worked out better than I anticip- AGGHH!_

Alexia had lunged forward right after his brother had diverted his attention back at the green haired huntsman, riding on his shoulders and pulling off hair left and right, all the while shrieking the same sentence: "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Little demon! Get off of me!" Isaac irritably exclaimed, surprisingly finding it rather difficult to throw his little sister off of his shoulders.

"You're the worst brother ever! I hate you!" She repeated, banging and clawing on Isaac's face.

 _Why the hell is she acting like this?!_ Isaac's vexed mind wondered, his hands still vainly making a grab for Alexia. For a girt under five feet that has no training experience yet, she was surprisingly elusive. It hurt all the more that she was just straddling his shoulders, her arms and legs in a tight lock around his neck.

In fact, he was finding it rather difficult to breathe…

 _The son of a bitch is suffocating me!_ The captain obvious of his mind alarmingly thought.

Isaac didn't bother to perform some martial artist type technique in which he threw his sister down to the ground; instead he chose the most simplest and basic way to rid of her.

He fell on his back.

Both he and his sister hit the ground with a thud, luckily missing both of their heads. The sound of groaning was hardly something he relished. She was hurt, yes, but they were behind a bush, thus it lessened the overall pain, even if just by a tiny bit. Anyways, she always groans after she gets injured, it's her thing… well, it's everyone's thing, but the injuries and accidents she went through would've made most children her age burst out in tears, which made it difficult for him to make her cry.

He decided that he would figure out how to cause his little sister to finally sob later, he was still keeping an eye out for his dad. He gave his sister another glance, who he saw had her eyes wide in terror as she stared back at him.

This was actually the first time she actually gave him a look of absolute dread, her body giving away the fact that she wanted to make a break for it.

 _Haha, success!_

She usually only gave that look during the act of being caught by an adult, but here she was, eye wide in panic as he gawk at him in fear.

 _That's right, you little, aggravating tomboy, be afraid of me! I could snap your neck if I wanted to right now, so be glad, be very glad for this undeserved generosity!_

"Now, Alexia," Isaac started eyes twinkling with barely suppressed blood lust, "Would you PLEASE get the FUCK outta here!" He demanded, watching her instantly flee from the area even before he finished his sentence.

"Serves the annoying brat right," Isaac muttered, scratching his head.

 _Hey, at least the vexing little idiot is scared of me now,_ Isaac thought, proud of his recent accomplishment. _Now I just need to make the little imp cry, then I'll finally be appeas-_

"My word, your children are just as ferocious and brutish like you are, Austin!" a voice interrupted his thoughts, paralyzing Isaac. He wouldn't have normally been stunned by something like this, but he had heard this voice before. Not only a few minutes ago that he heard this same voice disputing with his father, and that meant-

"Isaac, that didn't look like the loving brother that Jaune described you as when I call you, "the voice he dreaded to hear the most said.

 _Welllll shit._

Isaac took a long breather and sighed out, closing his eyes for dramatic effect, not that anyone would've have seen him, he just thought that it made him look him cooler in his mind.

"Oh hey there, Austin, how's it going! Nice day we're having, huh? How long have you guys been here? Also, would the explanation that Alexia suddenly attacked me suffice?" It was, technically, not a lie.

 _She did just lash out on me like the insane freak she is. I did nothing to provoke her!_

"We got here just in time to witness your impressive display of a body slam, Mr. Arc!" answered the plump man who had a blunder bus axe. "I must say, the look on your sister's face when she saw us was of absolute terror! It's simply unheard of that a fine lady would have been frightened of such a manly pre- oof."

Austin elbowed the narcissist, ceasing him from talking anymore of his family, before he looked back at his son.

"Why were you and your youngest sister in the middle of the woods?" his father inquired firmly, the other two huntsmen by his side watching avidly on what would transpire… except Oobleck, who had his thoughts elsewhere, which is to say that he was blankly staring at nothing while under the effects of the exhilarating drug that he called coffee, giving the illusion that he was keenly paying attention to the conversation. He couldn't have cared less, actually.

"Uhhhhh, no, your question is wrong. Alexia and I were not in the middle of the woods, that much is obvious considering the fact that we were close to the road. Plus, you didn't say anything on the fact that she just went bat shit crazy on me, Austin, seriously!" Isaac told him, arms flailing.

"I asked you first, Isaac, so tell me: why were you and your sister out in the woods this early in the morning?" His father pushed on, only for Isaac to roll his eyes.

"How many times do I have to remind you all that you should call me FELIX!" Isaac irritably shouted. "F-E-L-I-X! Felix!"

His father raised an eyebrow in response. "And you should call me dad. D-A-D. Dad. Now tell me or I'll have you running back home carrying our luggage," dad said, gesturing to the stacked bags that they were carrying, and it seemed that dragging or carrying them was already an arduous task.

 _Well, at least Jaune's still going to pay me._

* * *

 **English is not my first language, so it would be highly appreciated if you guys could point out some grammatical errors, as I am fairly certain that I've probably made quite a lot or maybe just a some of them here. Criticism would be handy also. So yeah, comment, favorite, or follow if you like!**


End file.
